


These Silent Hearts

by snazzelle



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, He also gives Daryl a massage, Jesus paints on his free time, M/M, Oral Sex, Rick ships them, awkward jesus, unrequited Rickyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 07:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8153131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snazzelle/pseuds/snazzelle
Summary: Based off of paddykitten's prompt for painter!Jesus.
Longing sucks. That much, Daryl knew, and he didn't know all that much about love. He just knew that one day it felt like his whole world was created and destroyed the moment he'd gone and fallen for the untouchable Rick Grimes. He'd gotten over it, or so he told himself.
Then here comes Paul, crashing his carefully constructed reality he created for himself and replacing his world with one that wasn't so black and white.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd work. I hope you enjoy it ouo

Rick just won’t let it go. 

 

Daryl found himself sitting stiffly in the passenger side of the truck, trying his best to ignore the way the other man was smiling in that knowing way of his when he knew absolute shit. That man was like his brother, and they could read each other in ways that no one else ever could, but Rick was wrong on this one. They rarely spoke full sentences with each other, and heck, sometimes things just got lost in translation. Daryl was _suspicious_ of Paul and that was it. He saw him as a menace, a trickster, someone who would end up getting them all killed one day because they didn’t know if Paul knew right from wrong, was on their side or someone else’s. It wasn’t _fascination_ and it sure as hell wasn’t _interest._ He tried his best to relax and not let it get to him, because when it came to Rick, shit like that just _proved his point._ There was no point to prove and Rick could shove his assumptions up his ass.  
  
“You know… if I didn’t now better, this all looks like signs of a school boy crush.”

 

“Shut the hell up, Rick.”

 

Rick snickered and Daryl grumbled under his breath a curse, reaching over to turn up the volume to whatever mix CD the other had slid into the player. He’d never really been one for soft rock, but Toto was better than listening to Rick gloat. Hell, it still hurt that the man hadn’t returned his feelings just months prior, having to find the other stalking out half naked with a still-getting-dressed Michonne behind him. He was happy for them both, but he just couldn’t handle Rick trying to fix the problem by passing him onto someone else because, apparently, that’s how Rick thought, like somehow it would fix things by finding Daryl a distraction. Daryl didn’t need one, and he had done his best to show the other that, but Rick was stubborn. Just as much as he was.

 

So Rick knew something about him. Or so he thought he did. Daryl never put a label to it, never once thought too deeply on what attracts him because he never thought there would be someone who’d think of him pass a one night stand. It had been hard coming to terms with what he felt for Rick, but at least that had been stomped on before it could bloom into something unmanageable to the point it felt like he’d be ripping his heart out right at the root. It was just a little sting, and Daryl accepted that he had wanted Rick, someone he could never have. That had been it. That was enough.  
  
This was their third time coming down to Hilltop. The third time that Rick practically dragged him and tossed him into the truck and hauled him plus their trade between the two settlements. It would be the third time he got placed under Paul’s hospitality while Rick went to do business with Gregory, left with nothing to do but follow the shorter man up to his little part of the mansion like building to hear him talk and paint. It had been a surprise to know that Paul had the talent, but from then on Daryl wondered how he missed it. Charcoal always colored his fingertips black, stayed under his fingernails like the mud and dirt that clung under his own, while pastels crawled up his arms like new and fading bruises. It was in that room that Daryl kept his mouth shut and Paul kept up the chatter, saying this or saying that, of wanting to stay or wanting to go. Daryl didn’t like that sometimes he heard his own thoughts being echoed back towards him from out of Paul’s mouth, but so far the two of them had been civil. And there sure as hell weren’t any _fascination_ anywhere. 

 

They pull up into the settlement and they park out by the building where people come to help open up the truck and exchange goods. Rick pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket while a guy from Hilltop carried over a clipboard, the both of them ready to stand out back and count things one by one, read each name, and mark it off. Daryl hated this part. Much rather would be anywhere else but here. And it seemed like Rick had been reading his mind again because he told him he should head inside and make friends. 

 

Daryl had sighed out through his nose, teeth gritted. He’d just been chewing on his thumbnail for a handful of secondswatching Rick handle things before he decided that going in was better than staying put, surrounded by people who still didn’t trust _them_ as much as they did down at Alexandriafor Hilltop. If he didn’t think Rick could hold his own he’d probably of stayed, but Rick could take care of himself. That had been pretty clear.

 

“Find Jesus. I believe he has a request.”

 

He had nearly tripped, faltering in his steps as he looked back at a grinning Rick with sharp blue eyes. Daryl wasn’t going to argue with him.

 

—

 

Daryl took his time. He really didn’t have anywhere to be immediately. They were goingto stay the night, as they always did, because driving out there after dusk was just asking for a disaster that they couldn’t afford, and once the second van comes around they would all bunk up in an empty house that Hilltop provided. He had already found Paul once, walking around in his plain T-shirt, moving into the kitchen. Paul probably hadn’t started a project yet, as his clothes were still pristine. Not that he’d of noticed. And Daryl sure as heck didn’t stay long enough to start a conversation, even though Rick had wanted him to figure out what Paul needed for the next run. Daryl had only spared the other man a nod, and Paul had smiled, gaze softened. Daryl had walked away just as he opened his mouth to say ‘Hello’.

 

He ended up meeting a lady named Susan, who dragged him out back to show him her garden. She pointed at the empty plots of land, constantly shoving her graying hair behind her shoulder, trying to gain some sort of sympathy for her failing garden that desperately needs tending. He thought it were for some vegetables, Lord knew that later on when finding meat became harder in the winter that it would benefit them all in the long run, but no. She happened to grow flowers and the ground had became too dry for anything to grow in it. 

 

“You should seen this place a year ago. The flowers _just might_ bloom this year if only we could find some plant food, or if someone would just stir the dirt up a bit…”

 

Daryl sighed, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know a thing or two about gardening now. He didn’t have a green thumb like Rick did, but he could do the heavy work if that was all the woman needed. “where do you need help most, lady?” Daryl grumbled and Susan brightened while he found a place to put down his bow. She handed him a pair of gardening gloves and put on a summer hat, having him follow her as she explained which flower grew where and how they looked during the spring and summer seasons.

 

He could be found with his knees in the dirt, pulling out the dead plants so that new ones could take their place. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed out in the sun like this, but he had Susan’s constant company, giving him knowledge that he didn’t particularly need. 

 

 

—

 

Daryl wasn’t sure how long he stayed out under the sun, but it was long enough to get a pretty nasty sunburn on the back of his neck. Not the worst thing he had ever had to suffer through. He couldn't bring himself to pull away, even though he knew he didn’t owe Susan a thing, but she was old and nice to him. He liked to see someone else smiling for something so simple as turning over some dirt, even if he had to blame the blush on his face to more sunburn. 

 

The only reason he managed to get away was Paul. He saw the long haired man move his way towards the garden, hair pulled back in a messy knot, sleeves rolled up. He took one look at Daryl and snorted with a shake of his head. Daryl must of looked red as a tomato, from the tip of his nose to the back of his shoulders. Paul waved Daryl off and snatched his bow himself, hanging it over one shoulder. It made Daryl’s stomach curl. 

 

With a promise that they have some aloe back inside, Susan let him go with more appreciation and a single apology. “I think I left it in the bathroom upstairs, left side.” She said dismissively with another sweet smile, pulling the gloves over her small hands and picking up her trowel. Daryl was almost hesitant to leave, but he had cooked out here enough.

 

“That was nice of you to do that,”Paul said, which Daryl answered with a grunt of his own. “Was planning to help out eventually, but you beat me to it. Man, that looks nasty.” He adjusted the strap over his shoulder. It looked like the crossbow would topple Paul over any minute.

 

Daryl would of told Paul he could hand it over, and he wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t. It gave him a bit of an excuse to stay a step behind and keep his eyes on Paul’s back, though he didn’t know why he needed that neither. But the archer took to that advantage to glare heatedly at the back of his head. His silence, as usual, didn’t dissuade Paul from talking.

 

“Now hanging out with Susan was your fault,” Paul said with a playful smirk, as if he could feel him. Daryl huffed, his shoulders sagging, and following the man into his little studio he kept up at the top of the tower, Daryl doesn’t admit to wanting to help out anyway. 

 

They found the aloe along the way. Paul set Daryl’s crossbow by the door, and asked him if he’d like to put the aloe on his sunburns, but Daryl shook his head. It wasn’t all that bad, and the upstairs was calm and cool. All the windows were open, the drapes down padding the floor, letting the natural light in now that the days have gotten more sunny than cloudy. Daryl took up the stool in the corner, his one spot that he made into his own, somewhere out of the way but letting him see the new pieces that hung up on the walls to dry. 

 

 

There was a new piece right now, so green and vibrant, the paint thick enough that even from where he sat Daryl could see how coarse it was layered on top of each other. Paul had noticed him staring, muttering offhandedly, “Greg’s putting that in his office later.” which explained the frame around the massive thing. Daryl took a moment to print the picture to memory, wondering if out there on his runs he’d find this natural path between the trees. 

 

He wondered for a moment why he even cared so much. 

 

Daryl nodded and found Paul with his back to the wall, sitting on the floor with a pad of paper in his hands. It was weird to not see him behind his easel. Daryl had been so used to the quiet and with watching the way Paul’s arms flexed and casted shadow on his skin, used to listening to his even breaths with every sweep of a brush on canvas. But there were no paints out today, no open cans of color, no palette that already seemed like a masterpiece upon itself.Paul just had a book and a piece of charcoal held between his fingertips.

 

“Ran out of paint,” Paul mumbled with a dismissive shrug of his shoulder. His eyes flick over to that new painting before back towards Daryl and Daryl just knew that the other must of used up the last of his paint to complete it. Daryl’s thumb came up to worry the nail between his teeth as Paul only affirmed his assumption, “Been using so much of it up I think I just go through it like water. Green especially. Haven’t seen a tube of that stuff in a while.” When Daryl didn’t answer, he dropped his eyes down on the paper, dragging the charcoal over it silently.

 

But Daryl understood. He didn’t understand much about art, but he knew if you mixed yellow and blue together something like green can be created out of that. So if he was out of green, he must be out of those too, and who knew what other colors. That cool gaze landed on him again, stunning Daryl still.

 

“Don’t move,” Paul said, not that Daryl could do more than blink until the man stopped focusing those striking surf-blue eyes on him and went back to whatever he had been doing.

 

“You drawin’ me?”

 

They were the first words Daryl had spoken to him today, and it hadn’t even been hissed through his teeth in frustration. He went against what was asked of him, shifting his stance, setting one leg upon the stool he was sitting on and uncrossed his arms. His thumb movedout of his mouth and over his outstretched thigh, lips pulled together in a straight line. It was enough of a change that Paul grunted in annoyance and stopped.

 

It almost put a smile to Daryl’s face. Almost.

 

But Paul passed over an easy grin, shaking his head as he leaned back and relaxed his own pose against the wall. “Come on,” Paul said in that put upon tone of his. He pushed a long piece of hair behind an ear and Daryl traced the line of gray from the edge of his eye to his hairline. “That thing you do? I almost had it. That look on your face.”

 

Daryl scoffed and his eyes rolled, his arms crossed before his chest defensively. He squeezed his thumb into his fist just to resist the nervous urge. He wondered what games Paul was playing at. “Stop.”

 

Paul laughed quietly and simply turned the page to start a new page without letting Daryl see it.

 

“I’m saving that for later.”

 

Daryl sighed and gave in, hand coming up to chew on a hang nail while the other set up another easel by the window that looked down over the settlement. He picked a graphite pencil from his pocket, and Daryl only knew it was graphite because he recognized the green wooden pencils from the last time he and Sasha went out scrounging for supplies. Again, Paul gave Daryl his back and a space to look over his shoulder so he could see what had caught his interest now. 

 

“Was there anythin’ you need out there?” Daryl asked, his voice raspy and low, hand fidgeting. He thought Paul hadn’t heard him until the other man spoke.

 

“Can’t very well paint without, you know, paint.” The man scratched at an itch on his shoulder, but didn’t turned around. Black smudged like smoke on the fabric of his shirt. “I understand that there are more important things to go looking for, but I’d be grateful for anything at this point. We all have _our things,_ you know, things that keep us human in a world like this, and just doing all this… its mine.” 

 

Daryl grunted, the sound ambiguous even to his own ears. Paul didn’t bother to ask again, which was fine. He’d never been one to like it when a person repeated themselves or begged. And either way, Daryl understood his point. There were just some things that they all had that kept their humanity in tact in some way. For Daryl it had been family, and knowing that he’ll always have a place where they all needed him in some way. And if Paul felt useful when he painted what was good in this world, who was Daryl to judge? 

 

He stayed with the other man until the sun had set, even if all they did was sit in silence and look out the windows, watching the people on the ground carry on with life. The second van came in right behind their truck, bringing along the second round of goods here for the trade. Daryl leaned against the window sill, counting the three from home that came, the last being Michonne with her wide, white smile spread across her lips when Rick came to stand in front of her. The moment was intimate even though they didn’t touch, even from this distance Daryl could see the look in her soft eyes, or how Rick leaned in just a little bit closer. Daryl felt his heart quake in his chest, but it was hard to tear his eyes away.

 

“Man, your sunburns look _really_ nasty. I think I might just grab that aloe.” 

 

Paul startled Daryl by coming up behind him, his thin fingers plucking at his vest. Daryl spun around with a barely contained snarl, pulling the vest shut.

 

“Just the vest.” Paul insisted, hands out and open as if he was calming a wild animal. And he might as well had been, as Daryl felt seconds from snapping. But once his heart stopped trying to beat its way out of his chest, and he had calmed enough that he wasn’t going to barge out of the room ( _anywhere_ was better than out there)  Daryl slid out of his vest and handed it over and inched his way back. 

 

Paul took it without moving his eyes away from his. Once things were settled, he slowly moved forward and pulled on his forearm to turn him around. Daryl did so silently. At least he couldn’t look out the window.

 

“What did you think about the garden?” Paul asked, and Daryl was glad for that bit of distraction, but it was difficult to burn the image from behind his eyelids. He hated to think of the ‘what if’’s and ‘could’ve been’’s. Head down turned, he felt Paul’s cool hands push his hair toward the front and then a moment later, the cooling effects of the aloe on his skin. He let himself be babied even though he had convinced himself he didn’t like the shorter man one bit and that he didn’t need it. But his body was moving on autopilot and it was difficult to think past the feeling of longing. 

 

Paul was respectful. His hands stayed to what skin was exposed, never venturing under Daryl’s shirt. He rubbed the aloe into the back of his neck and to the hard points of his shoulders, making sure to get even the lesser redness down his arms. Daryl chewed his dry lips until it hurt, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He rarely tolerated touch so well, but he felt soothed. Comforted, in a way. Even though Paul hadn’t said another thing or brought up the change in his mood. He worked methodically and then he handed the bottle of aloe over Daryl’s shoulder in case he wanted to paint his high cheekbones and the tip of his round nose with the lotion. 

 

“I want to show you something.”

 

He pulled down a painting and kicked open another unused easel, carefully setting it down before pulling off the drape that kept the paint safe from the sun’s radiation. At first Daryl didn’t recognize it, but it was because he hadn’t really seen the garden from this angle up high. 

It was… pretty.

 

“Maybe you’ll see it in person this year,” Paul said, his tone slightly self-depreciating that Daryl at first wanted to tell him how nice the painting did look. It was great, but Daryl never had the vocabulary to say anything good about anything. Those thoughts felt safer in his head. 

 

He wanted to say he liked it. More than he did for the one that was going into Gregory’s office. But between this one and the one hanging on the wall, Daryl could see where Paul had improved, even with his own untrained eye when it came to art. 

 

Though, the colors. The other one just couldn’t match up.

 

— 

 

A week later, Daryl didn’t have the tubes of paint that Paul wanted. No pans. No canisters. He didn’t know why it would be so hard to find any of that shit, but there weren’t many stores that held art supplies, and a craft store wasn’t high on their list for places to hit. He had a small pallet of watercolors that he found in some kid’s room back in one of the abandoned neighborhoods and he fiddled with it between his hands before handing it off to an ecstatic Paul. It wasn’t much, but with the man looking at him like that, Daryl felt as if he had just handed him the moon. His own cheeks pink, Daryl dropped his chin and rubbed the back of his hand against his pealing nose and turned away with a hum that acknowledged Paul’s thanks. 

 

 

—

 

“‘chonne’s sick. So you’re comin’ with me.”

 

That was all Daryl had said when he picked Paul up. He could of asked anyone else, and Daryl wasn’t so sure what drew himself into seeking the shorter man out, but once he caught sight of him walking down the pathway between Carol’s house and Glenn’s, he caught his attention and motioned him over. 

 

Rick had pulled him aside earlier that day with the news. Hand combing through his curly hair and then resting on a hip, he looked at Daryl apologetically and told him that Michonne would be out of commission for today even though she was the one to originally volunteer herself to head out of the gates with the redneck. Rick then mentioned he’d take her place, but the hesitancy made Daryl quickly cut his sentence short before he could finish it. It was hard enough being around the other man, and plus, Rick probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate with Michonne unwell, and Daryl knew how easily he was to snap at Rick over the smallest things recently. 

 

His own jealousy was getting out of hand. He really has been trying to get a hold of it.

 

“Hey, man.” Paul greeted, hand out. He wasn’t phased when Daryl hesitated before slapping his hand in his for a short shake. The shorter man had come to him with a bounce in his step, and if he’s anything like Daryl was right now, a little stir crazy after a couple of days cooped up between the two settlements. “You know all you gotta do is ask if what you’re looking for is my company. We’re friends, aren’t we?” 

 

Daryl shrugged and started walking. He could hear the whine in Paul voice as he trailed after him, “Don’t be like that!” Daryl snorted and missed how Paul was smiling smugly at pulling the sound out of the other man. 

 

“This won’t be a long trip,” Daryl said as they took a quick stop into his house to pick up the easy necessities. “Most important thing is fuel, then food. Keep your eyes open for lady toiletries — don’t know how long I can take hearin’ about how much these women miss tampons for much longer.” 

 

“So are we taking your bike?”  
  
“What?” Daryl paused, “No.”

 

“Shame.”

 

Daryl didn’t know how to take that. Sometimes, when he thought he had Paul mapped out, he throws him out of his loop again. He wasn’t sure if the man was making fun of him, joking, or hell, _flirting._ At one point, such confusion probably would of made him lash out, but Daryl had grew up some since then. He ignored it.

 

“You got everything you need?” The hunter asked. He was rarely without his crossbow that now hung off his broad shoulders. He wasn’t exactly sure if the other was the same way. 

 

Paul patted his side over his coat. 

 

Well, that answered that.

 

They threw what they had in the backseat of a ’96 Tundra, half filled with 8 gas canisters in the trunk bed. They’d be lucky to fill even half of that, unless they decide to go farther than the usual 20 mile radius they were allowed. There was still some fear of letting two of their own to scope out their surroundings, especially when people like just everyone else turned out to be the greater danger than the walkers themselves. Daryl was feeling rather reckless today. 

 

Seeing how the truck had a full tank a gas, he turned towards Paul who was slouching in his seat, feet on the dash, ready for the drive. “What is fifty miles west of here?” 

 

Not the most rebellious thing either of them had done, but Paul perked up and reached into the glove compartment for the map.

 

—

 

Apparently, west of Alexandria landed them in even more miles of green. There had been little towns and camp enclosures scattered in between, and the occasional abandoned car that they sucked dry. But after two hours of driving it was getting kind of boring seeing the same damn thing. By the next cluster of camping cabins, they decided to take a break after they’ve ransacked half the place of anything useful. 

 

“You smoke?” Daryl asked from where he was leaning against the hood of the truck. He already had a stick and flame in front of him, sucking in. Paul held his hand out, and Daryl tossed over his squashed pack of stale cigarettes and matchbook. 

 

Paul smiled at him, always so pleasant. Cigarette between his lips, he said, “I must be making an impression,” a long inhale, “I think you're starting to like me.”

 

“Ha-ha.” 

 

Paul thought that was supposed to sound sarcastic, but there was something else to it too. Whatever it was, it made the younger of the two snort, smoke shooting out of his nose. He thought about tucking the pack in his own pocket for safe keeping, but instead held it out before him for Daryl to take.

 

With the car shut off, there was no music to fill in the silence between them. Daryl made use of himself by walking to the back of the car and getting up on the flatbed. They haven’t been counting when they were filling up on gas, and he so he took a quick tally on full versus empty canisters. At this point, they might actually get every one of them full by the end of the day. And that’s if they really try. Daryl wasn’t in no hurry to head back home.

 

“How much?” He heard from the left of him. Paul hung over the side of the bed, arms draped over the side. Daryl pulled a drag from his cigarette as he turned away from him, gently pushing aside the empty canisters with his foot.

 

“Three more t’go.”

 

“Alright, then. Want to head out?”

 

Daryl looked around them and shook his head. 

 

“You want to spend the night?”  


There was another log cabin not too far from where they stood that they hadn't searched. Between them both, they could empty it out easy as pie.Before Daryl could be making a decision for or against the idea, Jesus was waltzing off towards it, his knife swinging out from his jacket and spinning between his fingers. 

 

“I didn’t say yes!” Daryl shouted after him.

 

“You didn’t have to!” Paul yelled back. 

 

As much as Paul was able to take care of himself, Daryl didn’t want any explaining to do if he came home minus one person. It just took four walkers coming out from the open front door for the Dixon to jump out and jog after him, his own knife out at the ready. 

 

Paul was quick to dispose of them. His leg shot out to knock the closest one to him to the ground and he stabbed the other one under its chin towards it’s brain. With a spin, he dislodged the blade and rammed it into the temple of the next oncoming walker. 

 

Daryl took care of the one struggling on the ground. He scowled at Paul’s smug, “Child’s play,” that carried over to him in the silence once the last of them was put down by Paul yet again. 

 

“We need to head home,” Daryl finally gruffed out, arms crossed. 

 

At that, Paul rolled his eyes, “Just a moment ago you were hesitant to even keep going. Come on, Dixon. S’not like they’ll miss us for a night.” 

 

On the contrary, Daryl knew Rick would be frustrated when they returned later than expected. A little part of Daryl kind of wanted that to happen. That part one out.

 

Daryl huffed at him, lips curling in on themselves and then nodded before stepping past Paul and into the cabin. It wasn’t too bad. Definitely a one family unit. The first destination was the kitchen, finding that the cupboards were still filled with canned goods that had a bit of longevity to go. Everything in the fridge, though, had rotted and stank the moment Daryl had pulled the door open.That was quickly shut.

 

They checked out the bedrooms next. First door opened to where they presumed the kids stayed. They checked the last door and their faces scrunched up for a second at the couple wasting away on the bed, temples bloody and gun left between them. Daryl only went near to take the gun and search for any bullets they could of left behind. Then they shut the door behind them.   
  
Well, that bed wasn’t an option anymore. 

 

“At least we still have the bunk beds.”

 

At least they still had that.

 

—


End file.
